Abu Jalloh Professor Murray Reading & Writing 29 October 2015 Anthony Rodriguez “Aria: Memoir of a Bilingual Childhood” Critique In the essay "Aria: A memoir of a Bilingual Childhood" by Richard Rodriguez, the reader learns about Rodriquez life that many have never experienced. He explains how he struggled understanding English throughout his childhood. He felt that speaking English would help him fit into society but with this he sacrifices his native language, his home life, and connection with his family, all to try to become a typical English-speaking student.
This autobiographical essay will define my experience as a Dominican immigrant living in New York City. Being an American citizen with a Dominican background are extremely relevant to the process of political socialization. My family background is founded on the principles of democratic values, which taught to me by my mother and father. In New York City, I found a “melting pot” of different immigrants that allowed me to feel more accepted as a Dominican living in the United States. More so, these aspects of the socialization process provided a foundation for my belief in democratic values throughout my life.
First of all, going to family parties or having family come over was terrible. In my house, very little English was used if at all. The only English used was between my siblings and me. I knew some Spanish, but couldn 't understand a full conversion or respond to one. Going to family parties was hell because they didn’t understand why I didn’t speak both languages like my sister and brother.
However, those who aren’t bilingual and hear others speak another language around them; even if they’re not talking to them say that it is rude. As mentioned in the prompt Myriam says “It’s not meant to be rude to others.” That only states that when Spanish speakers are talking with one another it’s not to make other people feel uncomfortable or to be rude to them. Though, it’s the only way that the Spanish speaker will understand if they’re not bilingual. There may be situations where students talk to their parents in Spanish, not because they know others won’t understand but because it’s a form of respect towards their
I am not white, but I am not Mexican either. I am, however, a first generation Mexican American with parents from San Luis Potosi, Mexico. Perhaps I do not know what it is like to cross the border that refrains me from being Mexican, or the color of my skin that refrains me from being white, but my own personal experiences make me the Mexican American that I am today. Growing up I celebrated the Fourth of July with fireworks, and the Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe with matlachines.
As a member of a working class community, my life has been a struggle between resources and opportunities available for me. Having sparse resources has lead me to the constant push of working towards the things I’ve achieved. Social identities have become a guidance for my future goals and abilities. Being working class Latina, raised in a Catholic family has created many barriers and pathways into the future I wish to hold. Furthermore, taking all the social identities I have grew into have become the bases for my educational goals and identity.
From as early as I could remember I noticed I was not like the others kids. I had an interest for things most kids would not be interested in. I liked interacting with people, knowing about people and their life stories; I wanted to help in anyway that I could when I would hear everyone’s problems. I thought outside the box throughout my whole childhood and I wanted to make the most out of my knowledge. I told myself that I was going to dedicate my life to helping my community.
I am very proud of my Hispanic heritage. Even though, I am an United States citizen, I am always going to belong to my Hispanic backgrounds. There are so many reasons that I am proud to be Guatemalan and American that I could write a whole book about it. However, I regularly participate in my Hispanic culture and community through my family, traditions, and by being bilingual.
I come from an authentic Hispanic family, who is traditional in plenty distinct aspects. We treasure all the memories that have occurred to all of us and we laugh about the embarrassing moments we all had. We hold traditional customs and we accept new traditions as well. All of us are over protective of each and every family member, meaning that if anyone in the family has a problem we will not stop until it is fixed. To every family member, family is always first.
I believe the term, hispanic, itself does not define who I am. I define who I am and who I want to become. However, I do come from a Mexican heritage. Coming from a Mexican heritage has influenced and deeply impacted my life. My heritage has taught me a lot.
Spanish was my first language and neither one of my parents knew english. I would go to school and just listen and try to learn every little thing I could get my hands
Sitting in the front row of my French class, the new kid seating next to me asks: where are you from? Where am I from? That is a question I’ve been asking myself quite a lot too. Each and every time I hear these words, my brain jolts and flashes back, what should I answer? That I’m Italian so that I don’t have to explain, or say the real other truth and start a conversation? Every single time it’s the same story and invariably I don’t know what to answer.
I identify as a Latina. I have always considered myself as a Latina, but throughout time, I believe that I have assimilated more into a white individual because of the privilege that I hold and because I have lived in the US most of my life. I have received mostly negative messages from those who are not from my ethnicity. My peers and I were told we wouldn’t graduate high school and be laborers for the rest of our lives. With the current politics, I believe that this still holds true where some people still hold stereotypes and give oppressing messages to Latinos.
On Tuesday nights, I visit with my friends at the Grace Church Care Center in Noblesville, Indiana. I turn on my Spanish playlist and hop in the car. I change my thoughts to Spanish and repeat them back to myself to practice my pronunciation. I don’t want to lose a single moment of interaction because of a translation error. My Spanish friends are too important—our dialogue is too important, and I cherish every second of it.
It’s the summer of 2016 in West Virginia, my parents told my brother and I that we were traveling to Spain for the summer. I was certainly excited when they told us that, since it is a pretty place to travel to. With the towering mountains and glimmering ocean, green trees and bushes, as well as the fresh air that has a little hint of the salt from the ocean, which depends as to where in Spain you are at. My mom had said for my brother and I to make a list of what we’re going to take with us on the trip, and if we were thinking of taking any electronics, they should be put to charge. “Okay guys, go make a list of what you’re going to take with you on our trip.
